Smallville: Commencement
by lupinskitten
Summary: When Lex finds Lana leaning over the dead body of Mrs. Teague, he takes matters into his own hands to protect her. Based on the season four finale.
1. Chapter 1

Dark shadows absolved into the blood coating her fingertips, sudden emotional pain skyrocketing through her senses as she stared down at the limp figure sprawled beneath her. Lana could remember nothing, only the immediate sensation of horror as she beheld the crystal driven into the woman's heart. The scarlet stain coating her hands was compounded in a shudder as she collapsed beside the body, holding out her hands in despair. Through the erratic gasps that escaped her throat, she sensed someone in the doorway. Between tangled strands of hair, she beheld the bedraggled appearance of Lex, staring in at her with understanding in his emotional green eyes.

Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. Instead it was a deep shuddering intake of breath that drew him to her. He came across the expanse of black tile, reaching out to feel the woman's neck with one hand, the other coming to rest reassuringly on her shoulder. Lana was beginning to panic, her breath coming in incontrollable gasps. Even if he had doubted that the woman before them was alive, he sensed no pulse. Guineve was as magnificent a vision in death as she had been in life. Lex could remember her from his childhood, from the long years of his mother's illness, and his father's many adulterous affairs. She had been composed, charming and seductive, using her feminine wiles shamelessly to gain power and influence. Her affair with Lionel had been brief but poignant, accumulating in a sadistic form of rivalry. Even though his memory burned with memories and suspicions, old wounds rubbed with salt and newer ones emblazoned into his soul, it gave him no pleasure to behold her fate.

Lex's eyes fell to the bloodstained element, surprised to find it in Lana's possession. Lionel had led him to believe that Jason or Clark retained it. He had never suspected Lana, whose soul could be so easily manipulated through a spiritual force greater than they could imagine. The witch that indwelled within her had arisen one final time. He had come an instant too late, witness only to a blinding light as the stone was driven into the woman's heart. His eyes lingered on the element, interrupted only by a whisper of, "She's dead. I killed her!"

He turned to her, cradling her face in his hands in an attempt to remove her eyes from the still form. "Lana," he said firmly, "you are not to blame. We will make this right, but I need you to come with me."

"I came home, and she was here! She—she wanted the element!"

Lana stared at the woman, so composed in death, the crimson stain slowly spreading across her expensive garments. "She pulled a gun on me!" Desperately she twisted her head, searching the room for proof, but if the weapon was within proximity, it had fallen beneath the desolation wrecked upon the furniture. Her precious personal items were littered across the floor, books toppling from the shelves, memorabilia from Paris smashed into fine, chalky powder. It was coming back to her in vague remembrances, but not the instant in which she had killed another human being. That was nothing but a shadow; the image abruptly ended with the sensation of hands closing around her throat.

Lex pushed aside her hair, trailing his fingertips gently against her flesh. There were imprints circling her curvaceous neck, those of a recent physical assault. Rage began to build in him, but only cold precision came through in his reassuring grip. Taking her firmly by the arms, he assisted her to her feet. She was trembling so violently that he was forced to hold her up. She leaned against him, weak with exhaustion and remorse.

"It all happened so fast… so very fast," she uttered.

"It's all right, Lana. I'm here with you. You're safe now."

Blood was beginning to seep beneath the body in a crimson pool, rippling across the black tiles. Lana pulled away from him to pick up the stone, wrapping it carefully and placing it into her purse. It was only then that she truly looked at him with anything apart from shock; a flicker of comprehension was forming in her mind, dawning through her soft brown eyes. He was grateful when she reached for his arm. She stumbled through the wreckage of her apartment, and clung to him as they descended the stairs, passing through the darkened Talon that only hours before had been filled with gaiety and laughter, students celebrating their final day at school. Lois and Martha had gone home, intending to sweep up in the morning, leaving streamers and confetti littered across the floor. Balloons dissolved into obscure shapes as they bounced out of their way. It was a sadistic situation, but neither of them was compelled to consider the irony.

"Lex, what am I going to do?" she asked brokenly.

He could not bear the note of panic and desperation in her voice.

"There is nothing for you to do," he said. "I will see to it."

Reassurances were granted as he led her out the side door to his car. There were burn marks on the pavement where he had skidded to a halt, knowing Guineve would immediately come here. His desperate flight from the woods had not even given him pause to return home, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel as he raced for the Talon. Lana's palms were still coated with blood as he assisted her into the expensive interior, and she stared at them with a slightly dazed expression. Knowing it would be best not to attract attention, he drove to the mansion without surpassing the speed limit. He was growing calmer with every mile, formulating the best manner in which to handle Guineve's untimely but deserved death. His eyes constantly strayed to her in the passenger seat, huddled up as though she anticipated a violent blow. Lana was on the verge of a mental breakdown, every sudden movement causing her to flinch.

The security team that met him at the gates beheld her with curiosity, but responded to his orders that the "situation" at the Talon be taken care of immediately. Lana was trembling so violently when they entered the mansion that it was difficult to separate her from her purse. She gave in under an eerie stupor. Closing the double doors against the prying eyes of the house staff, Lex lead her to the wash basin, the latest in his collection of Roman memorabilia. It was polished to a silver sheen, reflecting her anguished features in eerie distortions as she scrubbed at her hands.

"I didn't mean to," she said in despair, rubbing until they were raw. The water took on a scarlet hue that reminded her of Guineve's dead face. "She was coming at me. It happened so quickly! I don't even remember stabbing her!"

Violently, she scraped at the top of her hand, bringing an angry welt to the surface. Then a gentle hand descended on her shoulders, as warm and reassuring as the calm voice that accompanied it. "Lana," he said, "I want you to take a deep breath. Try to relax."

He understood her emotions, the fragility of comprehension, and the knowledge that a human life had been taken. Lana was so innocent, so feeling, so in need of protection that the event had been more traumatic than it might have been. He had taught her to protect herself, to use her arms and legs in defense, but not the devastation of death. It was nothing he could have prepared her for, an event he'd prayed was escapable, but had known somehow that ultimately it would come to pass. Families like the Luthors and Teagues were used to such dealings, for it ran in their blood. He had attempted to protect her from involvement, to drive her and Jason apart, but loyalties and devotion had kept them together.

Her voice betrayed the ridiculousness of his suggestion. "Lex, a woman is _dead_ because of me! I killed her!"

Water rippled from the silver pitcher as he poured it over her hands, gently removing them from the basin and covering them with a towel. Lana's movements indicated that she was soon to collapse, and protectively he placed his arm around her waist, guiding her to the couch. "You had no choice," he said comfortingly. "Your life was at stake."

She did not seem to notice the hand that fell to her knee. He could feel her trembling, sense every tremulous emotion cascading through her body. Her nearness was intoxicating, but her weakness was numbing. She was so fragile, so utterly lost in that moment that he felt a brief instant of despair. Lana was facing the same demons he had been forced to defeat in moments of utter madness. She half rose from the couch, shoulders hunched and panic still alive in her eyes. "I have to tell Jason!" she said in horror. "She was his mother!"

Lex remembered the blood as it spattered, the shock in Jason's eyes as he toppled backward over the cliff. Mild satisfaction crept into his voice as he replied, "I'll deal with Jason."

Lana let out a half moan, rubbing her fingers dry with the same urgency that had compelled her to scratch them raw in the basin. "Lex, there's a body in my apartment! I have to go to the police! I have to tell them what happened!"

Rising from the couch, Lex replied, "I'm not so sure that's a wise idea. Genevieve Teague was a powerful woman, married to an extremely powerful lawyer. Even though it's clearly self-defense, Edward Teague is going to make sure a jury sees otherwise."

He did not want to frighten her further, but to go to the authorities would be a mistake. To tell anyone would be an error. There were avenues they might take. Jason's body had still not been found, although his father had a team combing the woods and rivers for any sign of his survival. Genevieve could be yet another unsolved mystery. He could make it happen, but knew Lana would never agree to it. In her was enough pride to insist that the matter be handled appropriately. It was not like the legacy of the Luthors, that when a body was inconvenient, it simply disappeared. Edward Teague would not accept the explanation, would deny that his wife was responsible for any wrong doing, would cite it as a monstrous assault with murderous intent. Lex had seen his cruelty in the past, not merely within the courtroom. Edward was as manipulative and treacherous as Lionel in his finest hour, and would feed Lana to the sharks on his arrival from London. In this, it was fortunate that she had no close family living, for Edward would have made their lives a living hell.

The room was cast in shadows, bathed in the warming glow of dispersed lamps. The atmosphere was having a calming effect upon his companion. Lana was not so broken as she asked, "What's going to happen to me? I'm going to prison?"

Passion arose in his voice as he stepped closer, as though to defend her from an unseen adversary. "_No_," he replied. "I retain one of the best defense attorneys in the country. Once he arrives from New York, we'll go to the authorities."

Lana nodded her head. "Okay," she whispered. "Thank you."

There were unshed tears in her eyes, and he drew her into his arms. Her face rested against his chest, arms encircling him in gratitude for his support. Her body conformed neatly to his, the slight pressure of her embrace causing him to close his eyes, wishing that this moment were different. He wanted to fully hug her, to feel a tremor of desire course through her veins, for he knew that it could be prompted, but now was not the right moment. "You have to trust me," he whispered. He would allow no one to know the truth, to reach through to her. Lana's inexperience would make her a vulnerable target. He had not been able to protect her from Genevieve, or from Lionel, but would not make the same mistake twice. She was willing to let him take control, to maneuver her safely into the future.

"Until the lawyer arrives, I want you to stay here and talk to no one."

She seemed not to hear him, tensing suddenly as her head lifted to stare beyond his shoulder. "My purse!" she demanded. "Where's my purse?" Catching sight of it on the couch, she abandoned him in pursuit of the element that called to them both, echoing in the emptiness of their souls. It was a poisonous thing, the stone that granted so much pain when it promised power. The same desperation to obtain it that had once burned in his breast, and lingered there still in a faint whisper, prompting him ever-toward madness, was aglow in her eyes as she dug desperately through the contents.

"Don't worry," Lex said as her hand fell upon the scarlet wrapping. "It's still there. I would never take it from you."

He had been so earnest, so gentle, so reassuring in her rising concerns, vowing to protect and assist her at peril to his reputation. From what little she knew of Genevieve, she guessed Jason's father was even more dangerous. Manipulative people were drawn together by circumstance, feeding off one another's weaknesses and accomplishments. She thought of Lionel, so clever in his deceptions, and felt a tremor of fear toward this unknown enemy. Lex stood as her only means of salvation against the impending storm, quiet and appeased in his somber black suit. He looked as though he would say more, but there came a voice from the doorway.

"Mr. Luthor, we have a situation."

Before leaving her alone in the magnificent room, a sanctuary in a world plunged into immortal darkness, Lex turned and offered her a final reassurance: "It's going to be okay." Then he was gone, leaving a vast emptiness in his wake unfulfilled through the presence of the stone as she gazed upon it in awe. Genevieve's blood still coated the metallic surface, retaining droplets crystallized by the element's power. It felt cold in her palm, trembling with a vibration that pervaded her skin. How long she sat staring at it, she did not know, only that she could remember the pandemonium, the flash of a gun, the crack of her foot connecting with Genevieve's outstretched hand. She was becoming aware of her bruises, of the throbbing in her shoulder, the rawness of her hands, the aching of her throat.

Lex was gone for more than an hour, and in that time she wondered miserably what else Isobel had done. She knew a primal force had ripped through her, taking fate into hands far more devious than her own, that it was the same power that had possessed her in China. No one would ever tell her what Isobel had done, and part of her desired never to know. She knew Isobel had harmed all the ones she loved, that she had turned on Clark and Lex. And yet Lex never pulled away from her, remaining steadfast despite the concern that dominated his tranquil responses. Her hands folded the fabric over the element, tucking it back into her purse and slowly setting it on the floor. The room felt so empty without him, solitary in a magnificent house besotted with the ghosts of former Luthors.

Shivering, she closed her eyes in an attempt to calm her spirit. It came to her hollowly, a faint noise in the corridor, the approaching of footsteps. She knew who it was long before he opened the doors. There was a weariness strained with tension in his approach, a newfound determination to the set of his countenance that softened when he beheld her, still seated where he had left her. Lionel's threats to turn her over to the police resounded in his mind as he beheld her, awaiting him trustingly. Panic was gone, replaced with complete faith in his ability to assist, but the mournful ties of responsibility remained. Her features were pale, the hands clasped in her lap still slightly trembling. Lex sank onto the couch beside her, answering her unspoken question with, "I've sent for my lawyer. He's going to fly out in the morning."

Lana nodded, tendrils of hair slipping over her shoulder. Lex longed to push them back but resisted the impulse. She clasped and unclasped her hands and looked toward the far side of the room. "I was thinking about Jason," she said tremulously, and felt him stiffen. Memories of what Alexander had told her about the Teague heir surfaced in her mind, bringing with it the incident in the flat. Lex had caught her off guard with his forwardness, the touch of his hand against her skin, the taste of his lips on hers. It made her feel uncertain in his presence, though there was nothing untoward in his current behavior. He could not conceal the hardness in his eyes when she mentioned Jason's name.

"Lex, what will he think of me?"

She knew that it was wrong to ask, that Jason's name brought out the coldness in his nature, yet the words slipped free of her throat with despair. Lex gave no immediate response, but looked at her soulfully. "If he is half worthy of you, Lana, he will understand. There are few who know the perils of Genevieve Teague more than her son."

He arose to his feet and went to the sideboard, pouring a brandy into a crystal glass. The sudden movement caused him to flinch. She had been so consumed with her own problems that until now she had not noticed his anguish. Approaching, she caught sight of the raw flesh beneath the neckline of his shirt. Her fingers gently rippled down from his collarbone, drawing open his collar and exposing the burns inflicted in the cabin in the woods. There was such open remorse on her face that it touched him, more so than the hand that remained against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, steady beneath her sprayed fingers. Suddenly she was aware of her nearness and looked up at him slowly, barely breathing as she found his lips near to hers. He had never desired to kiss her more than that instant, but repressed his desires.

Lex's voice was immaculately quiet as he replied, "It's nothing," and moved away. There was indecision in her face as she regarded him. A short ring from the desk alerted him to the voice of his secretary, rich and with a hint of an accent as she confirmed reaching his law offices in New York. The hour was growing late, and it would not be long until dawn awoke over the horizon, spilling golden fragments of light through the domestic farmland that surrounded the manor. The sound of the woman's voice invoked a tremor in Lana, for to the guilt-ridden mind, she sounded exactly like the deceased woman. She felt weakly for the sofa and sank into it, finding that her hands were once again shaking. Lana saw only his shoes as he approached, slowly looking upwards to the concerned countenance.

"Lana, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Just sit with me." She almost didn't say it, afraid of the emotions that it might invoke, but whispered, "Lex… hold me."

Touched by this faint plea, the Luthor heir settled on the couch at her side and allowed her to rest carefully against his chest. His hand stroked the length of her hair, feeling her body relax against his as she calmed an anxious spirit. His embrace was nothing like the innocent farm boy that was Clark, clumsy in his attempts to be affectionate, nor like Jason's, slightly possessive and forceful. Lex was completely different; his caresses were non-threatening and gentle, coming from a place of complete understanding and utter acceptance. She remembered nothing of Alexander in that moment, or the madness that had briefly taken Lex from them, only a feeling of absolute safety, as though nothing could harm her within this room, in the confines of his arms. Her eyes drifted closed and she breathed in his scent, a mixture of expensive cologne and brandy. He held her until she slept, drowsily aware of when he rose to his feet and lifted her into his arms.

Long shadows reached toward them on either side of the paneled corridor, but over the manor lay a sense of contentment and peace. Lana's head rested against his shoulder, her long hair falling freely over his arm as he laid her on the bed. She stirred with the motion and as he began to pull away, reached out and grasped his sleeve. "Stay with me," she whispered. He hesitated, a comforting shape in the darkness. The mattress dipped as he placed his knee upon it, leaning over her. Her heart rate increased as he joined her, turning on his side so that she might rest her head against him. She knew that he was as nervous as she was, for she could sense it in the tension of his limbs. Wholly trusting, she found solace in the innocence of his embrace.

Just as she drifted off to sleep in the reassurance that her guardian was there, Lana felt his lips brush her forehead in an unspoken promise, and released her fears of the unknown into the darkness. Nothing could harm her, not as long as he was by her side.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a lonely path that wound around the mansion and into the wood beyond. Lex had not been down this route since the body had been found. It had given him no pleasure to cover up Jason's indiscretions. At the time, he'd not been absolutely certain of the young man's involvement, but his antagonistic attitude in the cabin far in the woods had given him leeway for confirmation. The morning had not yet come, and the dew still hung heavily on the trees, creating a serene, peaceful existence in the glorious hour before the awakening of the dawn. His footsteps were the only ones heard in the immense grounds, masked beneath the rustling of trees overhead and the eager chirping of birds.

He walked with hands in his pockets at leisure, confident in his ability to remain unscathed, with the remnants of serious conversation revolving through his head. The night spent as a guardian to the woman he loved had left him with disquieting realizations. Never before had he simply held anyone. No other woman had asked that of him, with such trusting innocence. Lana was surely acquainted with the ways of the world, with the dangers that it would prompt, and yet it was not weakness that begged for him to place his strong arms around her, and hold her throughout a night that might have otherwise been tormented by inner demons. For just an instant, he had caught sight of something else in her eyes, a full acknowledgement of what act she was committing, what bond was being formed between them through this action. There was no emotion quite like this that he had ever before experienced. It was something deep and spiritual, a yearning desire to protect and defend beyond what might be gained through it.

Lex had been protecting the women in his life for as long as he could remember. As a child, he gazed at the paintings and sketches of courageous knights defending damsels in distress, but as maturity caught up to him, he had seen the dragons transformed into men. There were fewer scales on these monsters, but just as barbaric of actions. One after another, he had come to the rescue of defenseless souls. He could still remember the rage in his father's eyes, the blood that pounded to his head as it snapped back, the thunderous sound of the floor reaching up to collide with him when Julian's body was found; his sacrifice so that his mother would not be fed to the wolves. Helen had led him into it as well, nearly prompting him to murder. When he had found her limp form on the floor of the lab, drenched in blood, Lex had gone nearly to the brink, hesitating only before plunging into the abyss. Even Chloe had benefited from his protection, but none mattered so much as Lana. He would never allow her to fall prey to his father's schemes of blackmail and treachery, even if it meant betrayal to the man that had raised him.

Lionel knew his weaknesses as well as his strengths. They had fought on equal ground before, but never over such a thing of value. That he would dare involve Lana in his attempts to unite the elements and obtain their powers was the final straw. He wanted the stone, and would have it, but not without a price. Lex would not take it from her, no matter how much it called to him, evil whispers of what he might obtain through its uses. As tempting as it remained, he had made a promise that he would not break. She must choose to give it to him, to trust him with it. Lionel would have it for a brief instant only, before it brought about his destruction. They were accustomed to playing psychological chess with one another, and this time would be no different. Lex was content to protect the others, but abhorred the thought of allowing her out of his sight. He knew that she was safe in the mansion, where nothing could harm her, that she slept still, one hand curled beneath her chin, the perfect image of idyllic beauty.

Beyond the grove was the gazebo installed a few weeks earlier. The grounds had been so carefully tended that one would have thought it stood there for years, already beginning to rot in its ceiling beams. His hand fell against the rough railing as he ascended to survey the landscape. As he stood gazing into the wood, the hair on the back of his neck began to rise. He had the feeling he was being watched. His men, after an arduous search for miles along both of the riverbanks, reported that Jason's body had not been found. It was unfathomable that he could have survived the fall, but determination for survival often outweighed the odds. Lex had maintained life on many occasions when it should have been taken from him. Jason Teague was no different, a formidable, manipulative young man that Lex was well acquainted with.

Edward Teague kept his son educated in the finest elite schools in the world, and Lionel Luthor deliberately chose alternate institutions for his rebellious only child. One year they met on equal terms. It was in London, and Jason was two grades behind him, but an immediate dissention formed between them. Only six months passed before Lex was transferred to a school in Paris, his father having come to the realization that an institution that housed two such potential troublemakers would only prove to ultimately transform into a battleground. When Lex had learned that Jason had met up with Lana in Paris, he knew there was more to it than met the eye. The Teagues, much like the Luthors, never did anything without a promise of profit. His attempts to protect her had only succeeded in luring her into the dark abyss in which both families dwelt, sirens of hell determined to drag one another to their mortal end.

He rubbed his fingers thoughtfully against his lips, his eyes taking on an unnatural gleam in the faint morning light. He turned back to the house, keeping up a natural pace, though he could have sworn a twig snapped in the wood. Choosing to believe it was nothing more than an animal, Lex entered through the side door. There was no movement from the upper corridor, and he went to his study. Lana was there, leaning over a breakfast tray, adjusting the molded curves of the silver coffee pot. He paused a moment to watch her, observing the turn of her throat, the natural grace in her touch, the brilliance of her warm brown eyes as she acknowledged his presence.

"Lana," he said, "this is unexpected. I didn't think you'd be up for hours."

"I was restless, and it's the least I could do after putting you to such inconvenience. You'll find that my coffee making skills have improved."

She sounded considerably more at ease this morning, even mildly cheerful. Lana had come a long way since the girl who had made a mess of her short-term job at The Beanery. Confidence radiated from her as she poured him a drink, their fingers briefly touching as the warm cup was transferred. Taking a sip, he complimented her on it and noticed the flush of pleasure that rose into her cheeks.

"Having you here is no inconvenience. I am grateful that you are allowing me to help you."

"What better person to trust with such matters than Lex Luthor?" she replied.

Her eyes were drawn to the cup as it was set on the table, steam slowly rising from its center. Lex did not hesitate as he rested his hand conveniently near hers. The motion drew her attention to him, and what she read there was both comforting and disquieting. His soul was displayed in his eyes, the same look he had given her weeks before after their painful reconciliation. He reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face. The evidence of violence lingered on her throat, fading with time but retaining an ugly hue. "Guinevere had quite a grip," he remarked. "I'm sorry. If nothing else, it may help your defense."

Trying to ignore the butterflies that his sensitive touch invoked in the pit of her stomach, Lana said, "Thank you for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

She was relieved that his expression did not change, retaining the same empathetic confidence that soothed her panic of the night before. It shamed her to think of it now, to comprehend the insensible ramblings she had experienced while in shock. Vaguely she remembered her insecurity, but more profound was his sense of calm throughout, as though she was a ship in a storm, and he was the captain. She maintained eye contact, however much she wanted to look away, and prompted him to lean forward.

"You know I would never let anything happen to you," he said softly.

Behind them, the double doors opened. "Mr. Luthor, may I speak with you a moment?"

Lex rose gracefully to his feet and, promising to return before his coffee cooled, stepped into the spacious hall garnished with a ridiculously expensive piece of artwork. As the door clicked shut behind them, he inquired, "Is this about—what we discussed?"

"I'm afraid there's no news of him, sir. This is more imminent."

Rising concern failed to alter his appearance as he was informed of the circumstances, but Lex returned to the study with a heavy heart. He knew what this would mean to Lana, the memories it would invoke. The previous meteor shower on the town had left him in a coma, stripping him of his hair and much of his boyhood spirit. But it was nothing to the devastation that it had hailed upon the Langs, taking not only their livelihood, but also their lives. The little girl forever immortalized on the cover of _Time Magazine_ had only just begun to slip beyond the bonds that shackled her to that image, only to be forced to return to it in a rain of fire from the skies.

Lana was not as cheerful upon his return, concern written into her features as she rose to her feet. "What is it?" she demanded. "Is it about last night?"

"I'm afraid it's more serious than that." He hesitated. "Lana, meteorologists have informed my security panel that there's a predicted strike in the area surrounding Smallville in the next four hours." He could see the fear returning to her eyes, blossoming into the terrible memories she had of devastation and loss. Taking gentle hold of her upper arms, he said, "It's all right. The town has warning, and will be evacuated. I'll make arrangements to fly you out as soon as possible."

She remembered the burning skies, her childish scream as the meteor plowed into the earth, taking her parents with it up in flames. Lana took a deep breath, forcing back the memories, running an anxious hand through her long hair. Lex guided her to the couch and encouraged her to sit down, pouring her out a steaming cup. "Breathe," he commanded, and she weakly smiled. Her hands folded around the cup and lifted it to her lips. The liquid slipped through them, lessening her fears. Brilliant sunlight was streaming through the windows, falling in rippling patterns across the floor.

"What about Clark?" she asked suddenly.

Lex glanced across at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He could see that she was beginning to think more clearly, that the clouds of suspicion and doubt were fading into the purposeful sense of control that normally accompanied her actions. Rational thought would be of assistance in the trials head, but remained centered around those that she loved. She still struggled with her feelings for Clark. Whenever they crossed paths, a wound deep inside her soul opened and bled with disappointment. Lana was clinging to what she knew in an effort to halt the passing of time, and Clark was a part of her childhood memories. His feelings toward the farm boy had changed in the past six months, but Lana's remained formed of a strong attachment.

"I'll offer them a ride to Metropolis."

He had been meaning to visit Clark, for Jason's rash words at the edge of the cliff had increased his belief that it was Clark who remained pivotal to the finding of these stones. Clark had unearthed the caves, and interpreted their meaning. The mythology behind them alluded to a god sent from the skies to live among them, and the adversary that would rise against him. However strong their friendship had once been, over time it had eroded, leaving only dark suspicions that kept them forever apart. Lana's concern, and his reassurance to her that he would see the Kents safely out of town, gave him a legitimate excuse to visit the farm. Once it had been natural for him to intrude at all hours, but since the incident where he had nearly killed Jonathan Kent, relations between the two families had been strained. He did not lament the incident so much on the part of Jonathan, but it was Martha that wounded him the most. She had always been willing to trust him, and now there was a shadow of fear behind her eyes whenever they met. He did not know what he had done or said, but it was reflected her aversion.

He found the Kents in the throes of harried packing, and did not bother inquiring after Clark. Leaving his car at the end of the drive, he went to the loft, encountering the family dog on the way. Shelby growled at him as he passed. Soft creaking noises from above reassured him that the individual he sought was among his things, and he ascended the stairs. Clark removed something from a box and shoved it guiltily into his pocket as Lex approached. Its octagonal shape drew his eyes to the accompanying stoic countenance, and a hint of a smile twitched at his lips. Clark never had been a convincing liar, and was ill at ease in his presence. There was a mild form of satisfaction in the knowledge that Lana would soon be beyond the farmland and separated from the source of her true anxiety. His offering of assistance was turned down, and pausing only to wish Clark the best through the dangers ahead, Lex returned to the mansion.

His team of servants was working frantically to clear out all the expensive ornaments when he returned, packing them in boxes to be taken into the underground vault beneath the wine cellar. Long coat fluttering around him as he proceeded down the long hall, a figure fell into step with him. "Mr. Luthor," he said, "you should be informed that Miss Lang left the mansion earlier, but returned a few minutes ago. She's waiting for you in the study."

"Have you made arrangements to ship her things to Metropolis?"

"There's a team on it, sir."

As he approached the open doorway, Lana's soft voice rippled through the air. She was seated with her back to him, a cell phone pressed against her ear. Frustration flooded through him. There was a possibility that Jason was still alive, and this was an imminent threat to Lana's life. It was not merely the elder Teague who desired power and he would stop at nothing to obtain it. Only Lex could keep her safe, could be trusted not to say anything of her whereabouts. Lana had no conception of the true danger of her involvement. She could not know the murderous nature of those she dealt with. He had always been honest with her, but could not be now. She could never know the intimate, jarring details of those hours of torture in the cabin in the wood, of the burning hatred in Guineve's eyes as she had held the hot poker against his skin. Her malicious nature was second only to that of her son, who had deserved whatever fate had befallen him in the river. The thought that Jason had manipulated Lana for so long, that he had held and caressed her, made ice run through Lex's veins.

"Chloe, even though you won't hear from me for awhile, I want you to know I'm okay."

Rapidly removing the cell from her upright fingers, Lex said sharply, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't talk to anyone."

Lana gazed up at him in disbelief. "I have to let my friends know I'm all right."

Her wounded expression calmed his anger somewhat, and he closed the cell phone. It admitted a little beep as it powered down. "Lana, I understand you not wanting them to worry, but you have to trust me. I assume the stone is still safe?"

There was a trace of anxiety in her eyes that concerned him; they flickered to the ground as she replied, "As safe as can be."

"Let's keep it that way."

Approaching the expensive panel of books aligning the near wall, Lex activated the secret door that unearthed the cold metal of his safe. Lionel had vowed to turn Guineve's body over to the authorities, covered in Lana's DNA, if his son didn't obtain the element for him. Her ill-thought attempt to contact Chloe had proven how unstable she was. The only safe place for the stone was in his possession. He had the suspicion she would not give it over willingly, but thought it was worth the effort of an appeal.

"I'll put it in my vault."

Lana's eyes narrowed. What had driven her to leave the mansion, she could not have said, only that desperation had carried her to the Kent farm. No one had seen her along the road as she slipped into the barn to wait for Clark. In a motion of trust that Lex would never understand, she had given him the element. Throughout the night, her dreams had been filled with prophecies that led to Clark. She knew it was meant for him. The moment it was out of her possession, her hands had stopped trembling, her footstep not as burdened, the remnants of Isobel forever vanquished. To have it gone, to have closed that chapter of her life, to bid Clark a farewell deeper and more meaningful than a simple prayer that both would survive what was to come, had brought her peace. But now, as she beheld the slender, attractive figure standing in his immaculate study, the man who had opened his arms to her in her hour of weakness, who helped her to remain strong even when she was terrified, who encouraged her to be independent but was willing to catch her when she fell, Lana felt the first true stirrings of doubt. She knew that he had only the best of intentions, but to confess to him that she had given the murder weapon to Clark would only disappoint and infuriate him. The only response that came to her lips was, "Why?"

"A chopper is being fueled to evacuate you to Metropolis, where you'll stay at a hotel until your lawyer arrives. It's probably best not to travel with the murder weapon."

He was proud of the defiance in her eyes. It was not difficult to see why Clark worshipped her, why he had been drawn to her from their first meeting. Over the years, amused interest on the behalf of his friend had transformed into something more. She was never more desirable than in that moment.

"I understand that, Lex, but I'd rather hold onto it."

There was not as much annoyance in his response as interest, an attempt to play with her on level footing, to see how far she would go in resistance. It was a game he had played with Victoria, and Helen, but never at such a high cost. Beyond the garden lay the guesthouse, and in it, Lionel Luthor bided his time, stroking his beard and watching the clock with a knowing smile, wondering if his son would rise to the challenge.

"Lana, that object is what prosecutors fondly refer to as a 'smoking gun.' Now, I'll do anything to protect you, including supporting whatever story of self-defense you want to run with—"

He knew it was a mistake the instant it was out. Lana's brow furrowed, and a defensive tone came into her voice. "It's not a _story_, Lex. I would never murder somebody!"

"Of course not." Crossing to a chair and sinking into its depths, he appraised her seriously. The time for games was at an end. "Lana, I trust you. Now you have to trust me with that stone."

There was a coldness in her countenance as she beheld his final effort. "I'm sorry, Lex, but I can't do that."

His expression of wounded acceptance was more profound than her instantaneous feeling of empowerment. Something had been irrevocably damaged between them. Both sensed it, a prevailing chill. It had only been a few hours ago when she had sat with him on this couch, trembling beneath his reassurances it would be all right. Now her hands were clean of Guineve's blood, but it was her soul that bled. It was painful, and equally so for her companion. Lex gave no immediate response, rising to his feet and walking away. She wanted to go after him as he retreated, wished that she still had the stone so that she could give it to him, to remove the wounded silence between them. Her purse felt too light without it, her happy euphoria of giving it over to Clark suddenly dissipating.

From the hall came the chiming of a clock, announcing the lateness of the hour. Lex's eyes flickered toward the mullioned window, anticipating the arrival of his father. "I know that it's been a difficult twenty four hours for you," he said, "but you must hold on a while longer. Go and get some rest. I'll send for you when the helicopter is ready for departure."

Sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Lana turned as she came to the doorway, her voice soft but empathetic. "I am sorry," she whispered.

Lex did not turn to acknowledge her, hands deep in his pockets, and as she went down the lonely corridor, Lana fought back salty tears.


	3. Chapter 3

Her shadow fell down the long corridor, listening to the murmur of voices in the rooms below. She thought one of them might have been Lionel, but could not tell through the closed doors of the study. Her hand fell on the railing, caressing the soft cherry wood as she stood on the landing. Lex had warned her not to venture below. Their argument had left a strain between them that was devastating. More than anything, she now wished the stone were in her possession, that she might give it to him, and earn back the trust that had vanished from his eyes. Something had driven her to turn it over into Clark's keeping, a whisper from the bloodstained element that was otherworldly and more powerful even than Isobel, as if the element belonged to Clark. As if it had been meant for him all along.

The voices were more insistent now. She knew it was perilous to linger where she might be seen and turned to go just as a rocking explosion of light shook the foundations of the mansion. It glowed through the cracks of the door, reflecting the length of the mirrors that flanked either end of the hall. Her astonishment was nothing akin to that of Lex as he watched his father writhe on the ground, in the clutches of a desperate sequence of seizures. The man who had raised him from childhood with such a brutal, unfeeling hand, now lay helpless, trembling in the wake of a powerful beam of light originating from his chest pocket. Lean fingers reached forward, slipping between the silk shirt and expensive jacket, but the element responded violently to his touch, sending him crashing back against the far wall, where his skull connected with hardwood. Lex fell to the ground, dazed. How long he remained there, he did not know, only that the light eventually faded and when he looked up, his father was laying unconscious nearby.

Thunderous footsteps brought his security team, throwing open the panel doors and stopping in astonishment at the sight of him kneeling beside his father's body. Lex gave orders for him to be removed in a dazed, obscure voice. So many voices were speaking to him, calling his name, whispering that he embrace his destiny. Lionel's cold countenance, the blank stare of his eyes, the limpness of his form as he was carried out, meant nothing; the only thing of value lay on the floor at a brief distance, a glowing silver stone of greater power than was fathomable. Lex crawled toward it, the glow of the insignia reflecting coldly in his eyes; he felt something rush through him as he drew near, an otherworldly power that was enticing. It took possession of him as his hand closed around the object.

He did not hear her approach as he turned away from his safe, closing the panel and encasing the element among his treasures. Green meteor rocks glowed within. He did not know why, but in the very back of his memory, he knew the rocks were important. Lana came down the staircase, taking in Lionel's form with horror, and now hesitantly entered into the room. She saw only the paneling as it slid shut beneath his hand, his stance as he leaned tiredly against it, face turned so that she could not see its expression.

"Lex," she whispered. She wanted to say more, but the words would not come.

The sound of her voice was like a melody in the midst of a terrible storm, causing him to turn and fix her with such a look that it nearly took her breath away. For one terrible instant, she believed Alexander had returned, for there was such fierceness dwelling therein, but then there was a softening of his countenance. With the light streaming through the windows behind him, Lex came forward to comfort her. She folded into his arms, embracing him with a shuddering gasp. She could not bear to voice her thoughts, the fear that had taken hold of her upon seeing that terrible white light, that he might have been harmed, or killed.

He held her without speaking, kissing the top of her head and breathing deeply of her delicate scent. Slowly, her eyes lifted to his, and he moved to cradle her face in his hands. Lana barely breathed as he explored her features with a lingering glance, his thumb lightly brushing across her lips. Lex leaned toward her, feeling her hands slide beneath his jacket. He barely touched her, his lips tenderly parting hers. When she did not pull away, he kissed her. Lana leaned into him, welcoming the experience that set her limbs to trembling. Whether it lasted for an instant or an eternity, she could not have known, only that there was nothing beyond that moment. She laid her head against his chest just over his heart, listening to the pulse, and closed her eyes. Lex's arm remained around her, the silence more profound than a thousand words.

Through the open doorway came a member of staff, appraising the situation with disinterest. "Mr. Luthor," he said as they reluctantly pulled apart, "the helicopter is ready."

Magic was gone in an instant, for she now remembered all the torments of previous hours, the blood that had been washed away from her hands, the meteors that would soon return to wreak havoc on Smallville. Lana's hand tightened around her purse strap as he led her through the eerie halls of the mansion. Most of the expensive items had already been taken away, put where they would be less likely to endure damage. The house felt strangely hollow without the footsteps of servants, for only Lex's personal security team remained. His hand fell on the small of her back and remained there as they passed out into the sunlight. Torrential winds created by the revolving chopper blades whipped her hair around her face as they approached the landing pad. She walked with confidence, her movements guided beneath his influence, but he knew the mansion could not be left, even to escort her safely from the township.

There was a growing storm darker than any meteor shower within his soul, threatening to overflow the constitution kept at bay. She helped prevent its immediate release, her presence allowing him to wage war on the evil that desired to be unleashed, but he could feel it growing stronger with each step. His father's deadened eyes lingered in his memory, a vision that he could not shake. He had seen what the stone had done to him, knew its power, the potential that it held for influence over those in its possession. The belief that Lana could be harmed through its presence overwhelmed him, encompassing his desires almost as steadily as the element itself seduced him with promises of power. Shouting to be heard over the roar of the blades, Lex said, "I'll meet you in Metropolis."

Horror flooded through her at the knowledge he would not be there, that she would face the impending darkness alone. He might have relented for the look in her eyes, but restraint bore in mind the necessity of remaining. There were answers that he must obtain, and only Clark could grant them. He would not leave the caves, not when in a few hours time they might be utterly destroyed. The answers lay within the chamber wall, and Lex had one of the elements. With another, he might obtain everything he sought.

"You're not coming!" she demanded, desperation flooding into her voice.

It was striving to take hold of him again, shattering his sensibilities as he led her to the chopper. Men opened the door and ducked out of the way, the pilot awaiting her as he stared anxiously at the skies. "I have a pressing matter to take care of," Lex replied, and then, with hesitation, impulsively gave one last valiant attempt. "Lana, for your own safety, I need that stone."

The look she gave him was murderous, a glance of suspicion and disbelief like a lance through his heart, but it was too late to turn back now, and thus he forged forward recklessly, sensing a softening of her features as she beheld his earnestness. "Look, we all have a need to cling on to things, but eventually you have to loosen your grip. It's too dangerous for you."

Lana thought of the stone in Clark's keeping and regret threaded through her features, filtering into helplessness that she could not grant him this one thing. Shaking her head, she confessed, "I don't have it." She searched his eyes for forgiveness, and found only accusations. The internal struggle was evident, but the darker side was winning. He could feel it surging through him, the desire to simply take it from her. The impulse was overwhelming, repressed for the final time. Frustration, mingled with mild rage, flashed in his eyes, and coldly he replied, "Lies don't become you."

"It's the truth, Lex. I don't have it!" She wanted him to believe her more than anything, and yet knew he would not. It was as evident as the darkening skies overhead, shadowed with impending peril. "Trust me, it's safe. I promise!"

"_Where is it_?"

Madness overcame him in that instant, and he recklessly gave in to impulse, snatching her purse out of her hands and digging through it desperately, praying to find the element concealed within its depths. It was not there, but the damage was done. Lana beheld him in disbelief, anger foaming to the surface, mingled with disappointment. So his compassion meant nothing, his tender embrace, the touch of his lips on hers. It had all been a ploy to gain her trust, to get close enough to her to obtain the element of his desires. She wanted to weep, but chose raw fury instead, the desire to hurt him deeply flooding through her senses. There were a million things she might have said, but the only one which leapt readily to mind was more cutting than anything else.

"This was never about my safety, was it?" she demanded. "This was about you getting your hands on that stone!"

The truth of it was appalling, that for an instant he had allowed himself to be ruled through common desire for power rather than the nature of his heart. He regretted it for the damage it had done more than the action that had been taken, for there was no ready way to repair the look of absolute betrayal. Brushing the wildly blowing hair back from her face, he held it firmly between his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Lana," he said desperately, "your safety is more important than any of this."

She wanted to believe him, but could not. It was too great a disappointment, too dark a betrayal. He would not have said it, and nearly didn't, but it came out in a whisper, the true echo of his soul. "You mean a lot more to me than you'll ever know."

There were a few tears now, as she lingered on the fringe of belief and acceptance, wondering if this was another farce to gain her forgiveness. Her lips parted, but no sound came forth, and she did not struggle to be rid of his awkward embrace. From behind them, the pilot urged, "Can't wait any longer, Mr. Luthor. We've got to go."

If any force upon the earth might have stopped the meteor shower in that instant, Lex would have moved heaven to obtain it, for the glance that he shot the terrified pilot was murderous. It was wrong to release her on that note, to send her away without making amends, to leave long hours to questioning in the hope that when he arrived in Metropolis, she would not turn away from him. Lex did not wish to remove his hands, but somehow he assisted her into the helicopter. The seat was smooth beneath her, the feel of his embrace still on her arm; she turned her head as the headset was placed upon it, unwilling to relinquish sight of him until the last possible instant. He moved as one broken, turning to watch the chopper as it lifted into the skies, his long black coat rippling around him.

It was only as they turned north and the mansion fell from sight that panic overcame her, the firm belief that she would never see him again. Turning to the pilot, she shouted, "Take me back!"

"What?" he demanded, wild eyes beholding her beneath the elaborate headset.

Lana had both hands clutched in her lap, twisting the cloth strap of her purse in an effort to relieve her concern. "Take me back!" she commanded.

"I'm sorry, Miss Lang, but I'm under orders to take you to Metropolis. Mr. Luthor was very clear. It's too dangerous to return."

"You cannot hold me against my will! I demand to be taken back to the mansion!"

"In a half hour, this area is going to be destroyed by meteors. You may have no respect for your own life, Miss Lang, but I am not willing to die just yet."

Arguing with him was futile, not that it would have granted them any hope of success. They were not ten miles from the mansion when the meteors began to fall. Memories of her childhood, of observing the devastation wrecked upon the town and her family, could not compare with the sheer terror Lana experienced as the helicopter swerved back and forth to avoid falling fragments, enormous flaming spheres that drove hard into the earth and set the fields aflame. Though the pilot said nothing, she knew that he was petrified. There was a strange calmness over her as she stared out the window.

It came so suddenly that they only felt it, the splintering as a massive meteor struck the back of the chopper, severing the tail from the body and sending them spinning out of control. Lana braced herself, watching as the world spun beneath them, trees and fields overturning as the pilot fought to gain some element of control. The ground was rushing toward them at a tremendous rate. Her last thought, before they plowed into the earth and everything skyrocketed into eternal darkness, was that at least he wasn't with them; at least he wouldn't be harmed.

Lex. Oh, God. Lex… 


End file.
